A Few Good Men
by empurple
Summary: She only ever had and ever deeply cared about three men in her life: one bound by blood, one she loves, and the one she could never forget. A BTT Fanfic, in the perspective of Alicia Aragon. Frali, Spamano and hints of UkIta and Gilicia. Character death included. More warnings inside.
1. Prologue

Warnings: Angst, cursing, and character death. Human names used. It deviates from the original plotline of Alicia's Head-canon, _**Ocean Blue**_, so this should be taken as a separate story. Also included in this story:_ loving two people at the same time._

General knowledge (especially for those who haven't read Ocean Blue): Alicia Aragon is the representation of the Crown of Aragon, Spain; now known as the region, Aragon. She and Francis were together in early 1500-1600s. They've been together for the longest time, and Antonio had only recently approved of their relationship.

* * *

"_If you love two people at the same time, choose the second, not the first;_

_Because, if you really loved the first, you wouldn't have gone for the second."_

_~Johnny Depp_

* * *

**Prologue**

"He wants to see you."

Ludwig slowly went out of the room, towing a teary-eyed Feliciano Vargas along with him. Antonio and Francis, two-thirds of the pack, exchanged nervous glances and made a motion of getting off their seats when the German shook his head and turned to the only woman in their midst.

"I meant you, Alicia."

Several pairs of eyes turned to her, and finally, the brunette lifted up her head from her hands, eyes livid and tears staining her face. She turned to Francis, whose blue eyes seemed pained, but he nodded and jerked his head towards the direction of the room, "Go." He whispered weakly.

And so she walked up into the hospital room and closed the door firmly behind her. It was large, like a few other people could still throw a party in it. But the walls were stark white, and had the eerie, hospital smell all about it. Several machines lined up near the bed and attached various tubes and wires unto its occupant. The room was warmer than she had expected, although she distinctly knew the reason for that. She walked up a few paces to face the albino in the bed: eyes closed, cheeks turning grey - not it's snow-white colour - and the bags under his eyes looked like he hadn't slept for days. Upon hearing her soft footsteps, crimson eyes opened slightly, and a small smile played upon his lips, "Hey," he whispered.

"I'm sorry," she immediately said, reaching his bedside and looking down at his form, "Gil, I-"

"No, Alicia," he whispered, looking up at her and frowning at the teary-eyed expression she gave him, "I was already dying, and you know that. It isn't your fault."

Tears fell from her eyes, "Even so!" she cried, making the albino wince. Gilbert never really liked seeing her cry, "I… I kept saying how much I needed you…" she gulped as his hand came up and wiped a few of her tears away, "… But you needed me more."

"Stop crying already," Gilbert attempted a smile, gently stroking her cheek, "I wouldn't have done anything differently. You take care of me best, and even Ludwig knows that. I don't regret anything, all right?"

"But Gil-"

"I don't want to hear it." His statement was firm, and he looked straight into her amber eyes as he said it. Then, he sighed and smiled at her again, "I didn't call you in here to hear from you what I already know." He gently caressed her cheek, his hands bony and frail, but still soft against her skin.

Alicia leaned into his hand, slowly placing her upon it to keep it in place, "…Oh Gil," she started, sniffling as she wiped her remaining tears with her free hand, "Why did you call me in, then?"

"Stay with me."

It had almost sounded like an order, and Alicia's amber eyes widened. Noticing this, Gilbert's brows furrowed and took her hand in his, "Stay with me, please." He added, hoping it would have a different effect.

"Gil, that's-" the Spaniard was about to say, but he cut her off almost immediately.

"I know." He said with a sigh, "… I know. I know that it's a bit too much to ask, but…" his voice trailed off as his crimson eyes met hers, and she remembered all those days that she couldn't refuse him.

She attempted to scour her brain for logic. All of it seemed to fail her, "F-Francis…" she started, but again, the Prussian before her shook his head lightly.

"I'm _dying_," he emphasized the word enough for her to cringe, "He won't deny me whatever I want now, of all times,"

"Don't say it like that!"

"Please." He was genuinely begging this time, and she could almost hear the fervour in how he said it, "Please… I don't want anyone else here. It's just you."

However, just as Alicia opened her mouth to answer, Gilbert's body tensed, and she saw his eyes widen in shock. Then, a series of dry coughs came from him, and blood began to pour from the corners of his mouth. He gasped for air, pressing a button frantically for painkillers, but still looking very much in pain. She had seen this before, _far too many times for her liking_. So she ran into the bathroom and brought out a basin for him, just in time for him to dunk his head into it and throw up blood, _too much for her liking_.

Probably hearing the commotion from outside, Ludwig, Feliciano, Antonio and Francis burst into the room, together with a nurse (a human one, probably), to find Alicia, holding a basin with a pool of blood, gently dabbing a damp cloth around the corners of Gilbert's mouth, with the sick man breathing heavily, but looking less pale than usual.

"Well," the nurse said, curiously taking a glance at Alicia, "It certainly looks like I'm not needed here. She seems to know just what she is doing," she turned to the other men in the room, "I take it that with his girlfriend here, he's going to be in good hands, right?"

"Actually," Francis began, looking despaired and turned to the nurse, "That isn't _his_ girlfriend…"

"But nonetheless," continued Antonio, smiling slightly so as not to confuse the poor human further, "He is in perfectly capable hands. You can take our word for it."

**X.o.X**

There was nothing really much else to do when you were taking care of a sick person. However, Gilbert wasn't a person. And technically, he wasn't even a country anymore. But either way, each day went by with more interesting and amusing moments that Alicia couldn't possibly get bored. They'd talk for hours, about anything really, from the texture of the food ("Goddammit, this tastes like it was made by Arthur!" "I didn't tell you to eat it, Alicia, why in the world-?!" "You wouldn't eat it! It would offend the person who made it!"), to politics ("Such a child. He's so confused." "America? Well, how many people raised him? And then tell me why he's so confused."), to the machines that stood by him ("I don't understand how it's a painkiller if it doesn't stop the pain, Gil." "Nein, I'm just immune to it now."), down to the colours of the walls ("They really think white would be more comforting for a sick person?" "What would you want, black? That's what you see when you close your eyes, Gil. They're veering away from that." "… I'd rather have a rainbow-coloured room."). No minute was less than amusing.

In the mornings, they'd go on that semi-typical routine, occasionally turning on the television, or he'd make Alicia read him books. On most afternoons, Gilbert fell asleep, and when visitors would come, they'd talk to Alicia, instead, about his health. Various politicians, other nations, he was more popular than he thought he was. But whenever Alicia would tell him he'd say, "They should say those things to my face, don't you think?"

Nights were much different than all of their mornings. Once Gilbert was tired for the night, he'd move to one edge of the bed and practically ordered Alicia to sleep beside him. True, he'd gone thin from being so sick that the bed seemed large enough for two. During the first night, they had argued: about how it was a hazard to his health, how it would be so uncomfortable, and above all else, it would inappropriate. But Gilbert was the one who reminded her that it wasn't like they would be doing anything inappropriate, anyway ("-unless you want to fuck a sick person-" "Gilbert!" "… Right. Language-") so it should be fine. Eventually, his pleading worked better than anything he ever said, and Alicia found herself sleeping night after night beside the albino. Even the nurses found them together that way when they checked on Gilbert in the mornings, and would find his arms wrapped protectively around the Aragonese woman, as though she was the one in danger of being in so much pain.

For many parts of the situation, she really was. However, nothing Gilbert would do could ever change that.

After a few weeks, Gilbert finally argued with his doctors that he was tired, and that he hated all the machines, and that if he would die, he wanted it the normal way – with nothing supporting him, like the old days. And after much convincing (Ludwig was the one who needed to be convinced), they finally took all support from him, freeing his body from various tangles of tubes.

But he was still to remain in the hospital, so he kept Alicia there with him. Of course, Francis tried his best not to mind.

On most days, Gilbert was well enough to take a stroll around the park right next to the building, so he'd take Alicia with him and go for a leisurely walk. Then they'd eat something light, like waffles or ice-cream, before heading back to his room in the hospital. The other nations decided (more of, Antonio yelled for the hospital staff to serve non-English food, so they had stopped feeding the two after breakfast) that Alicia and Gilbert must be fed, so they often brought lunch and dinner. Most of the time, it would be Francis and Antonio, taking turns in making home-cooked meals, and eating it along with them. Sometimes, Lovino and Feliciano would join them, and the latter would end up crying after every visit, making is older brother yell at him from down the corridors ("You idiot, he's not dead yet!").

But some days weren't as good as most, and Alicia found herself in the honest service of taking care of someone in need. Unlike how she had raised several of her colonies, Gilbert was _dying_. She knew it at the back of her head, tried to drown it for the most part, but she knew that he would hear her sob when attacks would happen, because she was terrified. And so was he. Some nights he'd be vomiting blood, and coughing so badly Alicia thought he'd lungs would be coughed out. Some nights, he'd be freezing and running a fever that he'd cling to her for warmth under layers and layers of sheets, muscles tensed and praying that the pain would just go away. As usual, after a while, they would.

Because of too much activity at night, and nearly passing out from blood-loss, Gilbert would take long naps in the afternoon. Sometimes, Alicia joined him, sometimes she watched over him. On most days, she would talk to the visitors who would come for him.

Ludwig came by almost every afternoon since he had taken off all supportive instruments, and thanked her continuously for staying with his brother, "I know just how important you are to him. I'm sure this means a lot to you as well." She never really knew what to say – it always seemed that they had been such good friends.

Arthur had passed by once, surprisingly bringing Feliciano along. The Englishman had avoided all major questions, but had the bubbly Italian clinging tightly upon his arm as an answer.

"I daresay," the blond started, looking at Alicia as she sat by Gilbert's bedside, placing soft covers upon his form, "I didn't think the frog would let you."

"Let me what?" Alicia asked, looking at Arthur curiously, "Take care of our friend? Wouldn't it be cruel if he **didn't**?"

To that, Arthur chuckled, "You know, as well as I, my dear, that I speak of something else entirely."

Her amber eyes met emerald ones and the Spaniard shook her head, "Gilbert requested me personally," she whispered, turning away, "And I really can't deny him what would make him happy… Especially not now."

"But are _you_?" asked the Brit, "Are you happy, taking care of him?"

She turned to the sleeping form of the Prussian, pale cheeks even paler than it used to, and lips close to a violet hue. She smiled slightly and turned back to Arthur, "I'm just happy to be able to spend more time with him. Even if it means taking care of him," she said, "I have no regrets."

And proud, albeit curious, of her answer, Arthur bade her goodbye, towing Feliciano along with him.

The last people to visit were Elizabeta and Roderich. They claimed to have come from different places and had met at the lobby, but they brought pastries with matching baskets. Neither of them had known how bad things were happening, and Eliza began crying on Alicia's shoulders upon hearing of Gilbert's decisions. They had been childhood friends, and the Hungarian woman regretted ever leaving behind that childhood of hers because, to an extent, it meant leaving Gilbert.

"I'm sorry," Eliza sniffled and wiped away her tears, handing Alicia a small envelope, "But you're an angel, and I hope you know that. Thank you very much."

Roderich offered Eliza a handkerchief and bowed with grace and respect, "We'll be taking our leave, then," his first words to Alicia, "Thank you for having us, but it is high time that I bring Eliza home."

Alicia read the letter that night, and she began to cry.

Elizabeta was thanking her for being there for Gilbert, when nobody was – not even her.

"_Because he's not a country, other nations tend to think that he isn't there anymore."_ Even she admitted that she often forgot to call or check on him, because of her personal duties to her country. She recalled how Gilbert used to be too proud, and picked on her. How he was one of the greatest empires in the history of the world. And how broken he was when his world fell.

"_But he's changed,"_ Eliza wrote, _"And somehow… I think it's because of you_." And she went on about how different he acted when it was Alicia involved. About how happy Gilbert would be, or concerned. However, it was the last of her words that Alicia engraved in her mind.

"_I'd like to personally thank you because… well. You seem able to do the one thing I had always been afraid to do: to stay with him until the end. I made a different choice. And now, I must live with it."_

Gilbert found her crying after coming from the bathroom, asked no questions, and held her in his arms until she had stopped.

**X.o.X**

She was sitting on his bedside one rainy afternoon, the most empathetic setting for what was just to come.

Gilbert knew – he was probably the only one who did. Alicia only somehow did, but in the end, it didn't matter what she knew. What she felt was more important. The Prussian was lying on his bed, doing something oddly interesting (for him, anyway) on his phone. She assumed it was "Dumb Ways to Die" (his current fancy of a game), playing on the irony of his current situation. She had chuckled at his sense of humour, and Gilbert had only winked. However, she felt her heart beat a mile a minute when he placed his phone carefully in her hands, the gestured for her to turn to him, "Alicia…"

"Gil, you're scaring me," she admitted almost immediately, looking straight into his blood-red eyes, her own honey-brown ones filling with tears. She noticed that his eyes had lacked the lustre it used to have.

Gilbert, however, chuckled and clasped her hands over his phone, "I just want to give you these."

"These?" the mobile in her hands began to vibrate incessantly, but she set it aside and turned to him, scooting closer as he leaned back into his bed, "Gil, what are you talking about?"

Gilbert sighed, took off the Iron Cross that hung from his neck and hung it over hers, "Consider it a parting gift."

"No." Alicia's tears had begun to fall, "Wait. It's today? Gil-" she grasped the front of his shirt, "Gil, why didn't you tell me?!"

"What would you have done?" he asked her weakly, a hand coming up to wipe the tears from her eyes, "Stop crying, Alicia, please. You already know that this was bound to happen."

"Yes, but…" she couldn't speak straight through her sobs, "Wh-why didn't you tell me? I could've told people, I could have made you your favourite meal… I could've taken you on one last horse ride, seen the sunset, watch the clouds move… I could've done so much more for you."

And Gilbert laughed, slightly startling her, "Oh Alicia," he said, cupping her face into his frail hands and wiping her tears away with his thumbs, "You've done much more than I ever thought you would. Thank you."

She could only gape at him for a long time, before her sobs came up to engulf her, "Gil, I-"

"Stop."

It wasn't like most of the words he had uttered to her. It sounded much more like a command than a request. Amber eyes widened, and Gilbert sighed, "… Don't say it."

"Y-You don't even know what I was going to say yet!" she argued, brows furrowing.

"Oh, trust me, I do." He smiled slightly, tucking loose bristles of her long, black curls behind her ears, "And trust me when I tell you that you're beautiful. I don't think I can get to say it anymore every time you don't believe it."

"Gil!"

"Ah." He sighed and sank into his pillows, looking only at her tear-stained face, "Don't cry, anymore," he whispered, trying to console her the best way he could, "Francis will take care of you now, I'm sure of it."

"Don't say it like that, please," she begged, tears streaming down her face, and making Gilbert frown, "Please, Gil."

"You have to believe me this time, okay?" He said quietly, caressing her face gently with his slightly bony fingers and pulling her closer to him, "I won't be here anymore to say it a hundred times until you believe me, so you'll have to believe it yourself this time."

"I know already," she argued, wiping her own tears with the back of her hand, "I'm beautiful. I already believe you."

But Gilbert shook his head, and then coughed lightly, slowly closing his eyes, "I'm sorry," he whispered, "But that wasn't what I was talking about."

"W-what? W-wait, Gil!"

He took her hand in his, then lightly kissed the back of her hand, and pressed it lightly upon his cheek, "I love you."

"Gil!"

But the hand had loosened its grip, and his head nodded off to the side. Emotions swelled from within her, and her tears had come on once more.

"No! Gilbert, please!" she begged, grasping the front of his shirt and burying her head into it, "No! Not yet! You're so unfair!" she sobbed harder.

It was a few minutes until she could finally release him, and she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. He was gone. There was nothing else for her to do. She picked up the phone that Gilbert had given her and noticed that several people had attempted to call: Francis, Antonio, Ludwig and even Arthur. She attempted to wipe her tears to no avail, and she made a call to the first man she's ever trusted:

"… _Gil! Please tell me you were joking, that wasn't funny, __**amigo**__-"_

But it was Alicia's sobs and sniffles that Antonio heard from the other line, "_W-wait… Hermana?_"

She couldn't answer or explain in long sentences.

"_**He's gone.**__"_

* * *

**A/N**: This is my first try at something... Not very happy. Don't worry, I'm not very fond of sad endings, so I'll see what I can do. This is a four-chapter story. Expect a prologue, two chapters, and an epilogue. Thank you very much!


	2. Chapter One

**A/N:** I have the strangest feeling you might only be confused by this chapter. And hurt. Please, I've already warned you all that this isn't the happiest story. I hope you all believed me. But at any rate, I worked hard on this one.

* * *

"_That's the thing about pain._

_**It demands to be felt**_**.**_"_

_~ John Greene_

* * *

Chapter One

The sun coming up in the east was a sign that one of them needed to get up. The little cottage in Cherbourg, France, was her favourite of the Frenchman's many homes, and it was the one she was most comfortable in. Just like how a girl would leave everything behind for her husband, she had followed this man to almost infinity and beyond. She fought her own brothers to be with him, and through all of her colonies' warnings, she decided to stay with him. And so Alicia Fernandez-Carriedo, opened her eyes one fine, summer morning, to birds chirping, trees softly rustling and the warmth of the sun pouring into their room.

Beside her lay Francis Bonnefoy, radiant in the morning sun, still fast asleep, with an arm around her waist. She attempted to pry herself away from his strong grasp, but to no avail – he was still much stronger than her, any day. As she always did, she nudged and whispered to him, "Francis," she smiled at the routine, "I must make breakfast. Come on, let me go."

The usual reply to that, would be, "Five more minutes, _mon amour_," or, "_Non_. We're making that together." Replies that she expected without a doubt.

However, the routine changed when Francis muttered an unusual string of words in his sleep, "_Non… Jeanne… s'il vous plait." _

Amber eyes widened, and a gasp escaped her lips, "F-Francis?" she shook him lightly by the shoulders, but the blond didn't budge, "Francis? Francis!"

"_Tu es de plus beau qu'un soliel._"

She pulled herself forcibly away from the Frenchman's hold, who still didn't wake from his slumber. Tears brimmed in her eyes, knowing exactly what the words had meant. It wasn't the first time he had said it. And as it seemed, she wasn't the first person who had heard it from him either. They were back to that again, back to Jeanne. She couldn't blame him for never forgetting her, but it hurt to know for her that she could never be what Jeanne was to him.

Alicia pulled up her knees and buried her head into them, sobbing until Francis stirred. Needless to say, he was surprised to find her curled up and in tears, "_Mon amour?_" he asked her, worry painted all over his face, "Wh-what's wrong?" he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up to him, "Please, tell me."

But she shook her head, muttering under her breath, "Oh God, I should have known…" she cried, unmoving and sobbing very hard, "… I'm so stupid…"

"Alicia, please," Francis begged, ocean-blue eyes turning to her as he pulled away and lifted her head up lightly to face him, "Please tell me what's wrong."

"Y-You… You t-talked in your sleep," she started, not meeting his gaze and the frown that accompanied it, "Y-Y-You said her name again… Y-Y-You were c-calling for J-Jeanne-" and this time, his eyes widened, "-a-and…" she couldn't continue and she buried her head in her hands once more.

For a long time, Francis just sat there. Then he wrapped his arms around her once more, whispering words of apology, love and comfort, "… It was just a dream - that was nothing, Alicia-"

"You love her."

Her voice was soft, but sure. And when she looked up at him, she sought the truth from his eyes. At first, Francis was intimidated by the intensity of her stare. There was but a simple beauty about her sun-kissed skin and dark, raven locks. And her amber eyes glistened like gold with tears, as though challenging him to prove her wrong. But his eyes softened as he placed a gentle kiss upon her forehead, "Loved." He corrected, nuzzling her lightly as he wiped away the tears from his eyes, "There is only one woman I love now. And that's you," he whispered, "I love you, Alicia. You, and no one else."

And just like that, she forgave him and all was well.

That was far from their typical morning, Alicia would have to admit. But the rest of the day went on as usual. She would water the garden while Francis made brunch (they slept in, after all). After eating, they'd take a stroll: watch a movie, or go to the bookstore, or just sit in a café and talk for hours, sometimes all three. And at night, when the lights are dim, they'd do what most young couples would do in heated passions, whispering words audible for only both of them to hear, in ways only each other would understand.

However, Alicia would gladly take more of that morning of tears than what she was to face.

Morning had come once more, and it was another day. She was expecting soft breathing upon her skin when the rays of the sun hit her, but the moment her eyes opened, there was nothing. No arm around her waist, no handsome Frenchman in the bed beside her, and no sign of what could have happened to him.

She sat bolt upright and searched the room. No note, no letter, yet his phone and workbag were still in the study. She hastily ran down the stairs to find the kitchen undeniably empty, and the gardens quiet. She sought her mobile phone from her pocket, and no messages were left.

"Pierre!"

The little white bird under Francis' care chirped and landed on the window-sill, "Did you see him? Did he call for you?" but the bird only looked confused, "Francis isn't here, Pierre." And with that statement, the bird seemed to be in some sort of panic and flew off. She sighed, returning back upstairs to get changed, and hoping that her fears were not confirmed, and that the blond had only gone out to buy food or baguettes.

But he didn't return.

**X.o.X**

"… I'm sorry for barging in here like this."

She was drenched from the rain, the typical weather in the dreary city of London, and Arthur gaped at her, thankful that he had at-least changed into more suitable clothing for the morning.

"Oh my dear, you don't have to apologize. Oh but you're terribly drenched. Do come in, I'll make some tea to warm you up."

"Thank you."

And she hung her coat up in the nearest rack, and trudged over into the living room, where the Englishman had rushed into, bringing a large towel and draping it over her shoulders, "Good heavens, my dear," he started, looking down at Alicia's wet hair and cold skin, "How long have you been walking outside? Why didn't you call me to pick you up?"

"It would be too much of a bother, I'm sorry," she apologized again, turning her amber eyes away from him.

Immediately, Arthur's eyes widened, "… Alicia," he pulled her into the sofa and sat her down, "Come sit down. Allow me to bring you some tea."

She nodded, not really paying attention much. Time hasn't passed her normally, and everything felt like such a blur. It was a few minutes before Arthur had returned with a tray, a pot of tea, two cups and a platter of sweets, "Here," he placed a warm cup in a saucer before handing it to her, "You need to warm up my dear," he started, taking worried glances at her while she just sat there, "Have you found a place to stay, by any chance?"

Alicia nodded half-heartedly, staring at the pale-coloured drink in her hands. Jasmine tea, by how it smelled. She took a small sip and whispered, "The hotel two blocks from here," she couldn't even say it in coherent sentences, before her hands began to tremble and tears began to stream from her face.

"W-Wait, Alicia." The Brit frantically dropped everything he was doing and rushed to take the steaming hot tea from her grasp, in fear of spilling it over her, "W-what's the matter, my dear? W-would you like me to call Antonio to pick you up-?"

"No!" she cried, her eyes livid, "N-No, please… He'll… He'll take me away again. He'll not allow me to see him… Please…"

"You mean Francis?" Arthur raised one of his massive eyebrows, and the Spaniard didn't respond, "My dear, if you wanted to see the frog, you shouldn't have gone to London."

"He's… he's not home," her voice quivered, "I've searched every city. Paris, Cherbourg, Bordeaux, Marseilles – everywhere," she sounded exhausted just explaining it, her voice airy and exasperated, "I didn't know who else to go to. I didn't know what else to do. If my brother found out, he'd be sure to tear me away from him forever, you know that." Yes. Arthur knew it by heart, even. "And Arthur… He's never done this before, wh-why… Why now?" she asked weakly, "Has… Has he grown tired of me after all?"

"Bloody frog," Arthur shook his head and rubbed his temples, seething, "He wouldn't normally do this, but I daresay that it's honestly nothing to be too worried about. It's probably got nothing to do with you. Don't think of yourself that way, my dear. I'm pretty sure he's just around here somewhere." He sighed, "Have you tried Gilbert? Alfred and Matthew as well? I'm sure you haven't told your brother yet, under the circumstances?"

"Yes, I've tried Gil, and no, of course not," she sighed, looking down at her lap, "You know how… over-protective my brother becomes when I'm involved. I've tried calling the boys, yes, but Mathieu says he doesn't know, and Alfred refuses to answer calls, texts or emails…" she shrugged, "I only say that because he woke up calling Jeanne again the other day."

Arthur, who had picked up his tea cup and was mid-way into taking a drink, froze at the name. His emerald eyes flickered a little, turning to Alicia and his brows furrowed in worry, "… Again?" he asked, "You mean to tell me that's not the first time?"

She nodded again, "H-He used to have dreams of her often, especially during my Conquistador days," to this Arthur nodded. He'd seen the lass fighting on both the Spanish and French Flags, and needless to say, she always made her _point_, "I couldn't blame him, it was only a few years since she'd died… After I woke up from my two-centuries worth of sleep, I thought they'd all stop but…" a few tears fell from her eyes, slightly startling the Englishman, "… She's still…" And she cried, burying her face into her hands.

He wasn't used to this kind of behaviour, of course, and the last time he'd spent longer than ten minutes within her presence was nearly half a century ago. But when he and Antonio were still faking their hatred for each other, he'd gotten quite fond of her – in that very familiar sort of way. She'd always been the sensitive one, the less clueless one, as though Antonio gave her all of his common sense. And after what happened to her – after how she was horribly mistreated by the Spaniard's crew (mistreated being the understatement of the century) – well, Arthur thought she'd never trust any man again. But she did, and she fell in love with Francis, of all people… And here was the bloody Frenchman, breaking her already too fragile heart.

He wouldn't admit it to anybody after that, but Arthur set down his tea-cup and pulled her into a warm embrace. At first, Alicia's eyes widened, but she buried her head into the Englishman's chest and he just rubbed her back soothingly. No words were necessary, words couldn't help diminish the feeling. All she felt was agonizing pain. And it was something Arthur couldn't take away from her, even if he tried.

"I'll make a few phone calls for you, my dear. You should call your brother." That doesn't mean he wouldn't.

**X.o.X**

Gilbert didn't know how they had ended up there.

Alicia had come all the way to Berlin, marched up their house and asked for Francis. Well, how the hell was he supposed to know, actually? He'd barely been out of the house. But apparently, the Frenchman was missing, and Gilbert was honestly more concerned about the woman before him than his best friend doing what not – and hoping that it wasn't anything to be angry about, because if Gilbert didn't end up murdering Francis, _Antonio _certainly will. He'd sat her down in the living room with her, offered her wurst since it was lunch time, and the moment she said she wasn't hungry anymore, he decided she desperately needed some cheering up.

But _again_… How did he end up in a train to Zaragosa again?

"… _Well, I don't really live in the city, and in my house, you can see the stars lighting up so beautifully at night. You can come visit whenever you want to~" _

"_Let's go there right now!"_

The albino's eyes opened wearily, and it was certainly no dream. Alicia was staring at her mobile phone in her hands, a few sobs being heard, and he raised an eyebrow almost immediately, "Hey… Why are you crying?"

She attempted a smile and set her phone upon his lap, "Nothing, I just miss him, that's all," she whispered. Gilbert turned his crimson eyes at the wallpaper of the phone he had set down, and his eyes feasted on his best-friends typical, bearded face, a wide grin evident while Alicia was giving him a shy peck on the cheek. Something raged inside him, but as he gave it back to her, he could only sigh.

"If you're going to smile, do it for real," he said, tugging at her hair-tie and letting her long, black locks fall over her shoulder.

And for the first time in a long time, Alicia laughed and threw her arms around the Prussian, making the man grow red in the cheeks. She pulled away, realizing what she had done and avoided his gaze, "I-I'm sorry! I just… It felt like a nice moment to hug someone, so… Uh…"

But Gilbert was still trying to take the blush from his cheeks when he smiled kindly at her, "It's okay," he started, "I think I needed it too. Don't be sorry. I liked it."

**X.o.X**

"I'm sorry, Antonio, but I had to come as soon as I heard."

Antonio stared very hard at the Englishman before him, before standing aside and let him through the door, "Well, if you must,"

Antonio led him into the living room. It was Alicia's house in Zaragosa, not really his, and so he welcomed the visitor grudgingly. It wasn't really Arthur's fault – well, it was, but Antonio didn't like pointing the blame at only him – but-

"… Has it really been that long since our last decent conversation?" the blond asked, looking at the Spaniard with worried eyes, "W-was the last really…?"

"When Alicia fell into a comatose, yes," replied Antonio, turning his eyes away as he sat back down, "You helped me guard her for most of those years, I can't really deny you the privilege of seeing her. She treats you like a parent as well, so I know how you concern yourself towards her…"

Arthur chuckled a little, "So all these years… It really wasn't just hate-sex, was it?"

"It was hate-sex." Antonio glared at him.

"No," the Englishman smirked, knowing he had prodded a button, "As I recall it, you'd pin me to your cabin bed and-"

"_**Hate-sex**_**.**"

For a long time, Antonio and Arthur stared at each other, before Antonio began to smile, then laugh. It was refreshing. They hadn't talked about their feelings in a long time, and although they've both had someone they love at present, they've finally gotten closure about their past, "Thank you for that, amigo,"

"You're bloody welcome," Arthur huffed, proud, "Now… The matter at hand…"

Antonio nodded, "She's been writing to him nearly every day since he left your place," he explained, "But when she arrived here with Gil, nothing. Not even a single one. However, the last letter she'd sent from your place still may have succeeded, seeing as Francis' bird hasn't returned."

"It did," the blond confirmed, "The damned frog called me. Apparently he was in New York after all the snooping America had been doing. He asked if I was still with her, because that was apparently what was in the letter. I told him to bugger off, and that Alicia would probably be better off without him," he sighed, "But I didn't really think it would end up being true." He looked around and noticed that the house was quiet, "… Where are they?"

"Probably in the garden, I'm not really sure," the brunet shrugged, "But Gil has definitely distracted her all these weeks. I couldn't leave them alone because I was so scared of what may happen to her. Believe me when I say that I was surprised that Gil doesn't even do anything close to sexual and intimate. He's just…"

"An absolute gentleman?" suggested Arthur with a grin, making Antonio laugh, "Well he should be. He took the code, after all."

"What worries me," Antonio started to say, on a more serious note now, "Is the fact that honestly, even before… I've never held any feelings with Gilbert. Never. Not even in the slightest."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, "But… Everything Alicia is at the moment came from you, Antonio. Including her feelings for the bearded frog," Antonio chuckled at how the Englishman could never not insult the Frenchman. Suddenly, the Brit's eyes widened, "Wait… Do you mean to tell me that-"

"Oi, bastard, I told you to-ARGH!"

Lovino chose this moment to enter the room, cursing the Spaniard for not waking him up, but finding the Englishman sitting calmly in the living room with Antonio. His amber eyes widened, "W-what… What is _he_ doing here?"

Antonio and Arthur exchanged curious glances, before the former chuckled, "Same thing we're here for, actually."

If he didn't believe it, Lovino ignored the irked feeling for a while and sat right next to Antonio on the sofa, "… Alicia?"

"Yes. By any chance, do you know where she is?"

"Sure," Lovino yawned and leaned lightly on the Spaniard's shoulder, making Antonio scoot closer to him and sigh happily, "She's out in the back garden with the potato-bastard. She's crying again."

Arthur looked worried, and Antonio pointed it out, "No need to worry, amigo. If there's anything Gil can do, it's stop her from crying."

Still, the Englishman did not seem convinced, "How are you so sure?"

Lovino was the one who answered:

"Because the potato-bastard says and does things for her that even that wine-bastard has never done for her in nearly a thousand years." And for the most part, Arthur was pleased, curious and confused all at the same time.

**X.o.X**

Francis didn't know what to do about it.

He had sneaked out and went all the way to Zaragosa to see Alicia. He knew he should have tried to get into contact with her. He knew that if he only had the will, he would have found a way. But the honest truth was that he didn't. Not after having a dream, wherein the words he had uttered to Alicia the first time he had her in his arms were uttered to Jeanne. It rattled him, it drove him insane. He didn't even know what to think. After all these years, he thought he had forgotten all about her. But one dream, and he had the sudden urge to go visit her grave again. And that was where Alfred found him, and brought him to America.

And he knew he'd made a grave mistake. He knew it… But he didn't know what to do about it, or maybe some parts of him didn't want to. Alicia loves him so much, and she was the only person who probably ever loved him more than he thought he could be loved. She wasn't blind to his short-comings – she forgave them. And she was nothing short of passionate. Which was why he had desperately hurried to come home, the moment he heard (or rather, read, since it was a hand-written letter) that she'd been searching for him. Nobody would do that for him too – search the entire continent. He didn't understand why he'd even replace her with an old flame to begin with – they had everything. And now-

"You're beautiful." The firm voice was definitely Gilbert's, no doubt about it, "Francis leaving you all of a sudden doesn't change that. Trust me. I'll say it over and over again until you believe me. _You're beautiful_."

The blond stood behind bushes, watching as Gilbert wiped away the tears that fell from Alicia's eyes. She had smiled a little, out of relief perhaps, and a certain kind of warmth. It made the Frenchman wonder: when was the last time he had said those words to her? When had he made her smile while she cried? When was the last time he had held her that close to him, and whispered words she had desperately needed to hear.

"T-Thank you," he heard Alicia say. And much to his surprise, she stood up on the tip of her toes to place a small, gentle kiss upon the albino's cheeks. Francis nearly gasped, but he held his ground. After all he'd put her through, he didn't really feel like he had much of a right to dictate what was and what wasn't right for her to do, "You seem to have some way with words and making me believe them."

But it didn't change any of the facts.

Alicia was hurt. Francis had hurt her himself. Gilbert knew how to comfort her – innocently, or not, it didn't matter. Only Gilbert would know which it was. Alicia hurt him – unintentionally. Because he knew that Alicia didn't do anything half-assed. And if she didn't still love him, she would have actually kissed Gilbert upon the lips.

Francis prayed to every god he knew that the day he would watch her kiss another would never come.


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N: **I think I've already warned you all enough about the contents of this story. For this, and the final chapter/epilogue, those are the extreme warnings. I'd like to know I managed to ignite those emotions... Thank you very much for reading!

* * *

_We accept the love __**we think we deserve**_.

_~Stephen Chbosky_

* * *

Chapter Two

"Oi, Antonio! I thought you'll go riding with me?!"

The young Prussian was up in his steed, an enthusiastic black horse, while waiting for his best friend to exit the premises. The Spaniard was late for almost _everything_. And this wasn't even anything political, it was just a ride through the lands. It was his first time seeing the countryside in Spain, and so far, it was beautiful and breath-taking. He was about to call again when a short brunet came out, straw hat on with a loose button-up tunic and tight black pants. He whistled and a white palace horse came throttling from the stables and stopping in front of him, and the Spaniard hoisted himself up.

"Finally!" Gilbert grinned, and when he saw the Spaniard's grin, they rode off.

It was an entire afternoon in the Aragonese countryside, and Gilbert never thought Antonio could learn how to ride a horse so quickly. Just the day before, he'd been falling off his horse, begging for bulls to ride instead, and here he was, out-running Gilbert's horse and riding farther and seemingly enjoying it too. Gilbert had never seen him that way before.

However, it wasn't until they returned to the hacienda, and the sleepy-eyed Spaniard, complete with bed-hair and upturned trousers, walked out and blearily talked to him that Gilbert realized it hadn't been his best friend he'd been riding with after all, "… Sorry Gil. Did you wait too long?"

Crimson eyes went wide, "W-Wait…" he turned to the form descending the white horse, then back to Antonio, "I-If… If this is you… Then who's that?"

The mysterious rider took off the hat, and shoulder-length black locks came into view. She looked exactly like Antonio, except for the hair and her dazzling amber eyes. They glistened like gold. She smirked as he gaped at her, eyes wide, "_Hola_~"

"Ah, mi hermana, Alicia," replied Antonio, still rubbing his eyes, "This is her house. I like staying here a lot to get away from heavy work…"

She grinned, then dumped her brother's hat upon his head, "Invite your charming friend for _merienda cena_," she said, "I think I tired him out after riding with him all afternoon."

"Eh?" Antonio pouted a little, turning to the Prussian, "I thought you said you'd come with me?"

"Psh." Gilbert almost laughed, "You can barely get yourself onto a horse, but…" his gaze followed the other Spaniard, who made her way back into the house, stealing a glance at him, grinning, before walking back inside, "Your sister? Damn… I think I'm in love." Antonio glared at him. He laughed, and took it back.

Neither of them realized that what Gilbert had said that day was one of the most honest things the Prussian ever said in his life.

**X.o.X**

Antonio had been hearing far too much not to get involved. Sure, it was a joke back when they were young, when they were no less than teenagers (well, for nations, they were teenagers) but for something like it to resurface now… The Spaniard didn't really know what much to do. And if there's anything he was definitely known for, it was his protectiveness over his family… Well, _over_-protectiveness, anyway.

He was sitting in his living room, with the Prussian drinking a beer before him in the sofa, calmly waiting for him to say anything when they heard the front door open, and heeled-boots signified a woman walking towards them. "¡Hola!" Alicia walked straight into the living room, expecting to see her brother's typical, bubbly grin, but she stopped the moment she saw snow-white hair and blood-red eyes, "Ah! Gil's here too?" She bent down to kiss her brother on the cheek, "Am I to expect Francis later on as well? Because he didn't say anything to me…"

"No, no," Antonio laughed a little, ruffling his sister's hair, "I just wanted you and Gilbert, actually."

"Huh?" Alicia sat down beside the albino, meeting his crimson gaze as he downed a can of beer, "Did we do anything wrong?"

"You tell me."

Antonio stared the both of them down, a malicious sort of gleam in his eyes. Alicia could almost hear Gilbert gulp – well, her brother seemed to have that charming effect on people. Smiling nervously, Alicia then took Gilbert's hand in hers tenderly, leaning upon the Prussian's shoulders, "You wonder of this then, huh?"

Antonio didn't answer, but glared at Gilbert, who avoided his gaze at all costs. The Aragonese woman laughed a little, then squeezed the albino's hand, "Gilbert and I are very good friends, _hermano_," she grinned happily, "Just as you and Francis are."

"Francis and I don't do that," Antonio warned.

"I'd be surprised if you do." Gilbert was now the one to reply, his typical smirk playing upon his lips, "I suppose it's just bothersome because I'm male and she's female. You have to remember, though, that I'm merely following my code. Has chivalry become so rare in the world now that my courtesy is taken as flirting?" He forwarded this question to Alicia.

"Perhaps?" she chuckled, and then smiled at her brother, "Think of it like Gilbert and Eliza's relationship, okay? They are very good friends as well~"

Antonio raised an eyebrow as Gilbert's grin faltered just a little, too miniscule for Alicia to detect, "Yeah. It's exactly like that."

"See?" a soft and incessant beeping began to emanate in the room, "Oh, sorry. This is Francis. Excuse me." And she stood up, exited the living room and walked out to the porch.

"I see," the Spaniard sighed in understanding, his green eyes meeting his friend's blood-red eyes, "_Because you loved Eliza too, didn't you_?"

Gilbert didn't answer, but took his beer and gulped the remainder of it down.

"Why don't you tell her?" the brunet sounded slightly frustrated now, "Why don't you tell her how you feel?"

"And what?" the Prussian asked, "Tear her away from Francis? Confuse her even more? Break her heart at my death because I can't give her forever?" Antonio cringed at that statement, "I can't do that to her. I just can't."

"But what of her, then?" Antonio asked him, "You know my sister's story. You know her apprehension with men. She will not act that way towards just any man." Gilbert tore his gaze from him, "You know it, don't you? How differently she cares for you? You think she won't be broken by the fact that you're going to be gone?"

The albino sighed, "She's already made her choice."

"That was predestined for her, Gil," Antonio began, now gaining the Prussian's attention, "Her affection for Francis? That came from me. I… I loved Francis that much before…" he chuckled lightly in embarrassment, "But you… Her feelings for you are all her own." With this, Gilbert's eyes widened, "You've always been my best friend – never anything more. So her choices now… those are the only ones she's been making for herself."

Gilbert was just about to make light of the situation when Lovino stormed into the room with a deep scowl, "All right." His voice was low, and the way he had said it almost made Antonio shudder. "What did you do to Alicia?" The two occupants of the room blinked at him, "She's fucking crying outside! What the fuck happened?!"

Before Antonio could say anything, Gilbert had already stood up and gone outside to take care of the sobs they were hearing through the door. Lovino was made to follow him, but the Spaniard pulled the young Italian back and into his arms, "Let them be. Gilbert knows what he is doing," he smiled slightly, "But did she say anything?"

"I couldn't make anything out properly," Lovino admitted, a blush rising to his cheeks as he sat down upon Antonio's lap, "All I could understand was, 'he said this year would be different' and 'I planned so much too'…"

"No… It couldn't be."

But a text message from none other than Francis confirmed Antonio's suspicions:

"_Mon ami, I am so sorry. Please tell her to understand. I just really need to see Jeanne again. Besides, it is my birthday. I think I should be able to decide how I would wish to spend it."_

Lovino, who had been reading the message from the Spaniard's arms couldn't hold his tongue, "That fucking son of a bitch." And Antonio just had to give him a peck on the cheek for taking it straight from what the Spaniard wanted to say.

**X.o.X**

"I knew I'd find you here."

Francis groaned. He'd been in the pub, a few miles off the main town in Cherbourg just to get away from the situations at hand, and here, of all places, one of the worst people to find him had – inevitably – found him.

"I know you want to kick me when it hurts, Arthur, but trust me when I say that I don't need any of that right now." He glared at the Englishman, who leaned on the counter next to him, raising one of his massive eyebrows, "Especially not after what I've seen."

For a long time, Arthur just stared at him, before he raised a hand and said, "Bourbon would be nice, thanks old chap," and he pulled up a chair beside the Frenchman, "Do tell how inexplicably worse this is than to what you forced the girl to endure."

Francis groaned again.

"You leave her for months, return almost unwillingly, and then suddenly indirectly tell her that you don't want to spend time with her on your own birthday," Arthur took the glass of bourbon from the barkeep and took a sip, "Tell me who's acting like a complete arse."

"You didn't see what I saw," Francis buried his head in his hands, "Tell me, how long has she been with Gilbert?"

Arthur didn't seem surprised anymore, "More than two months since you left her." The Brit replied shortly, "However, I don't think it's in the way you comprehend it. You didn't catch them doing anything intimate, now, did you?"

"Really?" the Frenchman demanded, his ocean-blue eyes meeting the Englishman's emerald ones, "Have you seen how he looks at her? How she acts around him?" he closed his eyes drawing a deep breath, "I've seen that look on her face before. She once looked at me like that, Arthur."

"She still does, you idiot," Arthur rolled his eyes, "They don't fool around, they do nothing in bed. As far as I know, their only concern is companionship. Even Gilbert knows enough not to destroy someone else's relationship, most especially yours. If you see the same thing I see in him, then you would know that your friend trusts enough that she is still yours, and will not cross any line because of it."

"That's exactly it, now, isn't it?" Francis laughed hollowly, slightly startling the Brit, "Alicia and I have been entwined so long, by something different. We were more physical about our relationship more than anything, love and passion going hand in hand…" he sighed and ran a hand through his blond locks, "But what Gilbert offers her? It is far more pure, far better than what I have ever done to and for her. And that's the very reason why he's winning."

His statement made the Brit frown deeply, "Is this what all this is to you? A game?" he demanded, slamming the glass of bourbon upon the wooden table, "Alicia is no prize, and Gilbert knows this. He's been nothing but courteous, gentle and kind to her. He's given her nothing but comfort when she needs it, and a distraction she'd definitely craved. And if you still think that Alicia is only but the chalice upon a pedestal, then she really is better off without you."

Arthur was seething, and the look on Francis face was disbelieving.

"If only you had treated her better," the Englishman added, "This wouldn't have happened. You wouldn't be losing your best friend nor would you be breaking the heart of the woman you love."

"And what of mine, then, Arthur?" demanded the Frenchman, "Don't I deserve a whole heart?"

"Do you not think of anyone but yourself?"

It silenced him, and Arthur put down his empty glass of bourbon.

"Alicia offered you everything she got," the Brit continued, "She loves you. And what did you do with that? You pushed it aside as you wallowed in your own self-pity. And even as your best friend lay dying-"

"Wait, what?"

"I just came from your house," explained Arthur, now meeting his gaze, "She planned a party for you with your closest friends and family. Just as Gilbert was comforting her for you deciding not to spend your birthday with us, he had a severe attack, worse than what he's had in months and she ended up taking care of him. Tell me, then: is this what you wanted?"

Whether Francis was sober, it didn't really matter. He stood up, and ran his way home as fast as his legs could carry him, hoping what he thought wasn't true.

**X.o.X**

"How long will she stay out there?"

"Let her be, the stars comfort her."

Antonio sighed as he and Gilbert sat on the porch, watching Alicia look up at the sky from somewhere within her garden. She had run out, tears brimming in her eyes, as the Englishman took a leave after realizing that it was much too late to push through with the celebration she had planned for Francis. Lovino got Alfred and Mathieu to return to their respective hotels, and Gilbert could only ponder on what could be running in the young Spaniard's head at the moment.

"You don't want to run after her?" Antonio asked slowly, taking a small sip of wine and turning to the albino who stood right next to him

Gilbert shook his head, "I told you already," he started, looking up at the stars and smiling slightly, "I don't want to confuse her any more than necessary. Besides-" he stretched a hand up, as though attempting to take hold of the stars, "What did I ever do to deserve someone like her? She's kind, gentle, honest, and just absolutely wonderful…" he shook his head miserably, "It makes me think that somewhere in my wicked, miserable past… I must have done something good."

However, before Antonio could ask about his soliloquy, the Prussian began to emit a series of coughs. It wasn't until blood started to come out that panic began to rise, and he couldn't help but exclaim, "Gil! Gil!" and Alicia came running back from where she had been lying down.

By the time that Francis had arrived, the only lights open were the kitchen lights, and a room in the second floor. Before he could open the front door, Feliciano was on his way out, bidding good night, and the moment his eyes caught sight of the Frenchman, he pouted, "… Why?" he asked quietly, and since Francis didn't respond, he kept his head down and walked into the night.

Antonio was sitting in the dining table, still with a wine glass in his hands. Francis approached carefully, and the Spaniard could only glare at him, "And where exactly have you been?"

"What happened?" The room was the epitome of gloom. It was almost as though dark clouds would soon engulf everyone. And the eyes of the Spaniard before him almost looked like his impending death.

However, before the brunet could respond, Lovino descended the stairs, "Apparently, it's been going on since the wine-bastard left," he didn't notice Francis' presence, "She's been taking good care of him, so it wasn't obvious until now. She wants to be alone-" but amber eyes widened upon the sight of the Frenchman.

"I have to see her." And Francis attempted to make his way up the stairs when Lovino pulled him by the arm with a grip so strong he thought he'd break his bones.

"You have absolutely no right to do that right now." And he thought Antonio's glare was scary. Lovino's was far worse. Francis feared that his house was surrounded, or that he might just be shot right then and there.

So, the Frenchman's expression fell, and his limbs limp, "… I know," he started, biting his lower lip, "I know… I just… I don't know what else to do."

Antonio sighed, and took Lovino's hand off his best friend, "You left her… For _months_," each word was like an arrow to his heart, "You spoke of your former lover as though she was more important than my sister. You didn't even seem to want to stay, as though you were itching to leave any moment you could. And today… You preferred to stay with Jeanne, instead of-"

"I know!" Francis, himself, was close to tears, "Don't you think I already know that I've made the most horrible decisions in the past few years?" Antonio and Lovino's expressions were unreadable, "But staying down here and waiting for the right moment won't undo the wrongs I've done to her. I won't be able to see clearly unless sunshine comes back into my life, and only Alicia can do that for me…" he clenched his fists tightly, "… Because even after all these years, no matter what I do, I will always love her. I love Alicia."

For a long time, Antonio just stared, the finally, he sighed, "Then go. See for yourself what has happened. But I'm begging you not to stress Gilbert out. I don't want him to die just yet."

The Frenchman nodded and headed off upstairs. The door was slightly ajar, and Francis could see Alicia's silhouette from the dim light. She sat by the Prussian's bedside, and he looked like he was in a sort of daze. Francis didn't bother entering.

"Alicia?" he heard Gilbert whispered weakly, "Is… Is it really you?" Tears were pouring from her eyes, and she nodded speechlessly.

"N-No… C-Can't be…" he sighed, closing his eyes wearily, "She's far away… She's much too far away. Like an angel. She's celestial. She walks among the stars…" he opened his dull-crimson eyes, and they met with Alicia's amber ones, "… Do you think she could have loved me?"

Francis heard no reply. Only Alicia's cries, sobs and the hitches of her breath in the night.

* * *

**A/N: **So, this is what I've got for you guys for now. Do wait for the epilogue, cause I've got a few more scenes for you guys. Please don't cry?

Heh. Merry Christmas!


	4. Epilogue

**A/N: **This is the last installment to this story.

Okay, I've finally proof-read it, so go kill yourself over the ending. It's unpredictably predictable, I think?

* * *

"_**Love is like the ocean.**_

_It's calm and reassuring, it rages in a storm._

_It's home to some of your greatest fears and finest of pleasures._

_You can let it kill you, or you can allow it to guide you. But no matter how you choose, one thing is for certain…_

_**It will always take up the majority of your world. **_

_~ KD DeFehr_

* * *

Epilogue

She didn't think she'd be invited to the funeral, much less asked to speak for it.

The chapel was in Berlin, at the center of the city. They would be walking to the burial site of Frederick the Great after the ceremony, but Alicia wasn't sure she'd be able to handle it. She was the only non-nation in the midst of several great ones, aside from the regions and cities within Germany, but it was normal that they would attend. Nearly the entire room was silent, and she sat in the front row, at the end of a pew, far away from Antonio and Francis. Needless to say, the setting was the most restrictive one for her. She didn't know what to do or which direction to look. All she could see where her hands turning pale because she'd barely eaten for days, and the black dress she'd come to attend in, and how she could almost hear him say it to her: _'You're beautiful.'_

A few tears began to fall from her eyes.

"Now, now," a soft voice whispered, and the wooden pew creaked beside her, "A lady musn't be seen crying. Especially not you, love."

She couldn't help but chuckle as she looked up to meet Arthur's emerald gaze. He held out a handkerchief for her, which she took reluctantly, "… This would be the second one you've lend me," she whispered meekly.

"You can have them," a sad smile played upon the Englishman's lips, "Forgive me. I do give you much condolence,"

"I don't understand," Alicia dabbed at her tears lightly, taking short, uneven breaths, "People say that to me, of all people. I don't think I'm the right person to accept all that. I wasn't even a major part of his life."

But Arthur almost laughed, "Oh, my dear," he started, "I think we both know that you're only trying to tell yourself that."

Before Alicia could say anything else, Feliciano approached them, still a little bit teary-eyed, "A-Arthur?" the Italian said weakly, "C-Come on… R-Romano says they'll be starting soon," he smiled sadly at Alicia, and then kissed her on both cheeks, "I'm so sorry for your loss, _sorella_."

Then, he towed Arthur away, fingers entwined and pulling him up to the other side of the chapel.

Ludwig, the brother, spoke first, welcoming everyone, thanking the visitors, and describing his relationship with his brother. He stood there for a long time, talked for a long time, and he wasn't as stern or as cold as usual. Bags under his eyes told Alicia that he hadn't slept, and his messy hair told her that he wasn't comfortable being his usual at an occasion such as that.

"… He was the one person I always thought I'd have." The weight of eternity lingered amongst them. They were a room half-full of immortals, after all, and yet, one of their own was lying in a cold surface before them. It was almost as though 'forever' was just a word, and 'always' was a mere idea. Once he was done, he took a seat next to Alicia, who placed a gentle hand upon his large, calloused ones. For a long time, his blue eyes just stared at her, then a small smile played upon his lips as he said, "Now I understand."

Alicia didn't.

Several people were being called to speak thereafter. Eliza, Roderich, of course, Antonio and Francis spoke too. Lovino and Feliciano worked on their eulogy together and stood up side-by-side as they said it. The room was still filling up with important politicians, a few small-folk from the town, and it felt almost like getting lost in the world as it was. It made Alicia wonder if it was her mistake to actually prepare something when, right after Arthur was called, the minister said, "And finally, the woman, if not for her patience, perseverance and great care – and quoting Mr. Beilshmidt, she's "an angel who walks among the stars" – we'd all be here at a much earlier date… Alicia Fernandez-Carriedo."

She froze.

_Gilbert said that?_ As she approached the podium to address the small crowd, she felt her heart beat a mile a minute. She didn't know what to think anymore. But it wasn't like she could do much. She couldn't really bring back the dead. So she looked down at her empty hands, and at the crowd that seemed to whisper while they stared at her.

"G-Good afternoon everyone," she began, her voice trembling a little, "Most of you may not know me. Some of you may. I'm Antonio's little sister, from Aragon, Spain." A few people gasped at this, some nodded, like Kiku Honda and the English Prime Minister in the front row beside Feliciano, "A-And honestly, I'm not really fond of men. You see, when I was, er, much younger-" her eyes found Arthur's emerald eyes, and she grinned cheekily, "-I was mistreated by men. And that's actually quite an understatement." Again, many people gasped, as her smile faltered, "So you could imagine how awful my perspective should be on men…" she paused momentarily.

"Well, for that, you all can thank the few good men I've had in my life." She looked at the open casket behind her, where the handsome Prussian lay lifeless, "… And the man before you all is one of the ones I can never forget." She stared at him, just taking in the calm and peaceful expression that was finally upon his face, "Now, I know this isn't about me, and it's about him." She wiped her brimming tears away and turned back to the crowd, "But I can't speak of any other Gilbert except the one that I knew… So, here's to the few good men in my life.

"The first," she continued, smiling a little, "Would be none other than my brother. Growing up, I had nobody else, and he may not be perfect, but I knew that ever since, he only wanted the best for me. And he will always be the first man I've ever trusted with my life and everything after it." Antonio beamed at her here.

"Next would be the Englishman who always looked out for me," at this, Arthur's face began to turn slightly red, "Most probably, he isn't the best big brother, or ever the perfect father, but he did a fairly good job in looking out for me. And whether it's out of courtesy, out of love, or just because old habits die hard, I'm forever grateful." The Brit chuckled a little.

"Then, I have the boy who taught me to be a woman, a sister and a mother," Lovino's cheeks turned as red as a tomato, "He is the boy that I watched grow up into a fine young man, and has never left my side, despite my short-comings and my loss of perspective. My beloved child, the only one whom I know trusts and believes in me with all his heart…"

"And we have the man who captured my heart," At first, Francis wasn't sure he was the one being described, but when Antonio nudged him, and his ocean-blue eyes met her gaze, he felt butterflies. He somehow knew that he was forgiven, "I fought wars for him, I disobeyed orders for him. And he, in turn, gave me everything I ever wanted and needed. I never thought I'd be able to love a man as much as I love him."

Here, she drew a deep breath and turned to the Prussian's form once more, "But the one who lies here before us is someone who will be remembered by me always," she fought the tears that fell from her eyes, "He is kind, and courteous, and absolutely charming when he wants to be." Several people laughed here, "He's valiant, he's high-spirited, but most of all, he's one of the bravest men I've ever met." At this, she pulled out the Iron Cross that was hidden from view by her dress, and several people gasped as they saw it, "One of the few truly good men in my life, and it's disappointing to know that his greatness will only be a memory after his death.

"He claims that I walk amongst the stars," she laughed miserably and the whole room fell silent, "But if it were truly me, then why is he the one who has gone to a place where I cannot follow? We all have a certain amount of infinity in our hands. Some, perhaps, smaller than others," she sighed and turned back to the crowd.

"And I'm grateful to the amount of infinity I have spent with him."

**X.o.X**

Gilbert had already told her that he had requested Ludwig to have him buried next to Frederick the Great, and the dying Prussian's request to her was to be there for the young German after he has passed on. She didn't know how it happened, but the moment that Gilbert was being brought down in a casket, Alicia had found her way to Ludwig's side at the very front. And as people began to slowly dissipate and began to leave one by one, she found herself edging closer and closer to the man, until she was silently crying and grasping onto his arm for support.

"Now I understand," Ludwig said once more, making Alicia look up at him, "Why bruder told me that you'll take care of me. He was so emotionally invested in you-" she didn't know if he just couldn't say the proper word for it, "-and he trusted you with his life."

"I trusted him with mine as well," Alicia whispered, her voice low as she avoided his gaze, "I'd give my remaining years alive to him if it meant being able to see him again."

Ludwig chuckled a little, "… I'm fond of dogs."

"Excuse me?" again, Alicia didn't understand.

"I'm fond of dogs," repeated the young German, taking her hands into his and pushed her chin lightly up to face him. She drew a deep breath: it was almost like how Gilbert does it, "People thought I keep my dogs alive, because I have so many of them. You know that saying? That who we will to keep alive will stay alive?" Alicia nodded here, "I know you know of Francis' bird? And my brother's? The dog of Tino and that polar bear of Matthew's? It's all true… But I don't mind changing dogs. All these years, I've willed my brother to live… But I guess, his will and readiness to die has overcome my will for him." He smiled sadly.

Alicia cupped his face into her hands, "If you're going to smile," she recalled the Prussian's words to her, "Do it for real."

At that statement, Ludwig laughed a little, startling her as he nodded and pulled away, "I'll have to speak with the minister…" He stopped and drew a deep breath, "… This year would be my first Christmas alone." At this, Alicia began to smile, "… Um, do you think…?"

"Say no more," Alicia smiled at him, "I'll spend it with you. I promised him that I'll take care of you. We can talk about where to spend it, whether in your city or mine, _claro_?"

Ludwig beamed at her, "_Danke_, you're very kind," he started to say, "You're everything he described. I understand why now…"

She couldn't help her curiosity, "Why what?"

_"Why he loved you."_

After that, she didn't know how long she stood there. She just stared at the tomb before her, at the writings upon it, grasping tightly the Iron Cross that hung from her neck, and allowing her mind to reel. The people who had walked with them, one by one, began to go home. After prayers had been said, after flowers had been offered, they all began to just turn and walk away.

But she couldn't just walk away. And neither could a lot of other nations along with her. Even from a distance, they all felt her sorrow, empathized with the looming clouds threatening to give rainfall, but they could do nothing much for Alicia's heavy heart. Arthur caught sight of her, and Feliciano was about to go forward to comfort her, when the Englishman pulled him back and towed him off with a short, "Come on." Antonio and Lovino watched her with heavy hearts, hands entwined. It wasn't until Francis had finally drawn a deep breath and approached her that they decided to give the two some privacy.

"You loved him."

Alicia laughed a little upon hearing Francis' voice. He was the Country of Love. She wasn't surprised anymore.

"Yes," she finally admitted, "I suppose I did." Just when she thought she'd cried enough, tears streamed down her face, "But it doesn't matter now because he never knew anyway…" she finally turned to him, eyes livid and strewn with tears, "Francis… I'm so sorry."

"Oh, _mon amour_," and the Frenchman wrapped his arms around her, "Don't apologize. Don't be sorry. And don't say that," he kissed her temple tenderly, "Of course it matters. He could have died alone. But he didn't, because he had you."

But Alicia shook her head against his chest, "I'm still sorry Francis!" she cried, "I didn't… I wasn't supposed to… I…"

"Shh," he cupped her face in his hands and wiped away her tears with the back of his hands, "**I** should be sorry for all this, not you. If I had not abandoned you, had I not left you for nothing but a whim and a fleeting feeling…" he shook his head, "I'm sorry, _mon amour_. My love, my Alicia, please stop crying,"

She met his ocean-blue gaze, and her eyes glistened like gold in her tears, "H-He told me, you know," she whispered, her voice shaky in her tears, "H-He told me… But he d-didn't want me to say it back… I… I c-couldn't say it back."

Francis' eyes were close to tears themselves, "He knew." He whispered softly, "He knew that I was struggling. I thought I'd lose you – I thought I'd _already_ lost you," he cradled her face in his hands, "Oh, Alicia. What I'd give so that I'd have spared you that loneliness, taken all that misery away. I was afraid he had taken you away from me, afraid that I'd lost the only person who has ever loved a wretch like me…"

"Francis-"

"It's true." His eyes swelled in tears as well, and Alicia couldn't help but reach up to wipe them from the Frenchman's face, "I'd seen you with him. You were much happier. He could do things for you that I couldn't. I didn't. But I was supposed to, and didn't realize I should have until I saw you with him instead." He pulled her into a tight embrace, "I thought you were going to be gone from me for good, because I knew at that moment that you love him."

For a long time, she just locked her arms around him, burying her head in the crook of his neck, taking in the heavy scent of cigarettes, the familiar scent of sweets and a hint of wine. He had been drinking. He had been thinking about this. He had thought of _her_. Realizing that, she pulled away and kissed him lightly upon the lips, shocking the Frenchman before Francis pulled her closer and deepened the kiss – the longing diminishing and the feeling all too familiar.

Once they pulled away for air, Alicia grinned cheekily.

"Loved," she corrected.

**X.o.X**

_16th August, a few years thereafter_ –

"Happy Birthday!"

"_Muchas gracias!_ Thank you very much~"

Guests piled into the hacienda in Zaragosa, and Antonio was _very busy_ making various meals in the kitchen with the most foul-mouthed Italian that he hardly noticed who was coming in and out of the house. He didn't know if it was colonies, nations or humans that they had invited. Only one thing was very much important…

_Alicia's Birthday._

"Francis~" Alicia whined, finding the Frenchman laughing as he sat in an armchair, drinking a glass of champagne. She didn't really expect any less. He smirked as she approached him, and she sat on his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck as she pouted, "I _told_ you that I'm no good with crowds and you give me a _party_?"

"Oh, come now, _mon amour_," Francis grinned, "It's your birthday. At least be sociable~"

Alicia laughed, but she repressed what it was that was on the top of her head and the things she had locked up in her heart. Whatever she did, Gilbert still took up a certain irreplaceable space in her heart. She had kept her promise. Ludwig was usually by her side, or a phone call away. She hadn't taken off the Iron Cross from her neck, and she wore it valiantly – almost like it was a medal for braving the storm of having one's heart torn to shreds. And she was honest when she said she would never forget him. Some nights, she'd sit at her own kitchen counter, reminiscing how days would have passed had she had Gilbert as well by her side. She missed him, it was true. Even Francis knew it too. But there was nothing he could do. There was something between her and the Prussian that only the two of them understood.

Sometimes she considered whether she was really brave for loving him yet never telling him, or a coward for not being able to tell him she loved him because she knew he would die anyway. But he knew, and she knew that very well. It remained unsaid, but every time she looked at the phone he had left for her to keep, she'd go over his last messages until her eyes would fill with tears and she'd have to put it down.

"Not too sociable, please."

The two of them looked up to find Arthur raising one of his massive eyebrows at them, holding a gift-wrapped bag in one hand and the bubbly Feliciano Vargas in the other, "Any more sociable and she'll ending up shagging half the guest-list, I daresay."

Francis scowled, knowing that the statement was meant to be a dagger to him, but Alicia stood up to greet Arthur and the Italian, "Thank you for coming~"

"Ve~" Feliciano beamed at her, "Of course we'd come! It's almost ready for your surprise after all~" But the moment it had escaped his mouth, both Francis and Arthur scowled at him. He chuckled nervously, "Ah… Oops?"

"Surprise?" Alicia demanded, turning to Francis, who sighed in exasperation, setting down his wine-glass.

"Ah~ The cat's out of the bag." He winked at Feliciano, who nodded and bounded off in the direction of the hall as Francis pulled the cursing Spaniard into the kitchen, "Well, it's just a little something I figured you should experience. We haven't done anything big yet, after all. Remember to count up to sixteen, okay, _mon amour_?"

"Sixteen?" But Francis had already kissed her on the forehead and turned to walk away.

"_Si._ Sixteen."

Alicia turned to the occupant of the kitchen. Her brother was there, hair unruly, apron dusted with flour and all, but holding a single, white rose: "_¡Feliz cumpleaños, hermana!_"

At first she just stared. She'd been taught by the Frenchman himself the meaning of roses. White ones, though? They stood for purity, innocence and secrecy. Humility and the sense of heavenliness – a way of saying "I am worthy of you." She blinked twice: it was hardly anything to describe her relationship with Francis.

"_Dios mio_," she whispered, finally taking the flower from her brother slowly, "Sixteen… of these?"

"Yeah," the grumpy voice from the doorway could only be Lovino's, and like Antonio, he held up a rose for her and jerked his head to the direction of the hall, "_Buon Compleanno_."

The next greeting was in the same language, but more enthusiastic as Feliciano bounded from near the entrance to the living room, "_Buon Compleanno, sorella_!" and he handed the third rose. She was starting to get excited, and a smile played upon her lips.

By the stairs, she took the fourth rose from Arthur, "Happy birthday, love."

"Thank you for everything, and happy birthday," Alicia nodded and beamed as she took the next rose from Ludwig near the doorway.

As she descended the steps, two familiar faces greeted her, and she took one rose each from Alfred and Mathieu, "Happy Birthday~" the North American added.

After that, a surge of more familiar faces came upon her: former colonies from the Philippines, Mexico, Argentina and Puerto Rico, plus her sister from Catalonia, and the twins that represented the Pyrenees. _Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…_ She counted in dismay, muttering a soft thanks along the way as she passed through the crowd of her loved ones and friends, who followed closely behind her as she went off down the road towards her lobby, where Francis was standing a few feet from her car.

"How many have you got?"

"Just fourteen," Alicia replied as she recounted, smiling nervously at him.

However, Francis chuckled, "That's correct. _Oui_, I am but the fifteenth." And he handed her a white rose.

"What?" her brows furrowed, arms wrapped around the roses already in her arms, "Then, who…?"

Francis smirked as he turned to the car, whose backseat door was opening.

At first, she didn't know who it was to expect: all her family and close friends were already there. However, as snow-white hair began to emerge, her amber eyes widened and her hands dropped all the roses that were in her arms. Pale coloured skin, and crimson eyes… she'd know that anywhere.

"No," she whispered, unbelieving, "… It can't be."

He was back in his blue uniform, and he shut the door of the car lightly, before he turned to the crowd, holding in his hand a single white rose. His attire was nearly complete – but there was one thing missing from him. Alicia was made to look down at the Iron Cross hanging from her neck, then look back up at the person who had just emerged.

"Was all this really necessary?" he demanded, looking at himself.

Alicia took slow steps towards him, until she was looking up at him, and he was looking down at her, "Y-You can't… A-Are you really-?"

"Here." He placed the flower gently in her hands, making her tremble slightly, "It's been a while, I know… But, Happy Birthday."

Tears began to brim in her eyes, "… Gil?" she breathed out, "… Is it really you?"

Much to her surprise, the Prussian smirked, "You can touch me if you'd like."

At that, she threw her arms around him and, much to her surprise, he was strong enough to catch her, to hold her. He was no longer cold like the last time she had cradled him in her arms, and his suit was no longer loose like he'd lost a lot of weight. She couldn't believe her eyes. But he was tangible, and all she could think of was how long she'd waited for a miracle like it.

She laughed a little, and he tightened his embrace before pulling away.

"It's really you," Alicia couldn't contain her glee as her grin was from ear to ear, "It's really, really you."

"In the flesh!" Gilbert looked proudly at the Iron Cross that still hung around her neck, and he smirked, "You know, I haven't forgotten the last thing I told you."

"What are you-?!"

She was cut mid-speech as the Gilbert boldly pressed his lips upon hers, a light kiss as he cradled her face. For a long time, she stood shocked and a lot of people gasped, until she found herself grinning against his kiss, and she leaned in to kiss him back.

All of her emotions swelled within her, all the things that had been left unsaid were finally resolved. She didn't have to tell him. It was all she could do to keep herself up on her feet because she literally felt weak in the knees. She could feel how much she had longed for it, and how he had longed for it as well. She wondered what series of events had guided them to here and now…And frankly, he didn't need to remind her: she actually remembered what he had said to her – about her – even after all these years.

Perhaps, she did still love him.

"O-Oi!"

Francis' shouts of disapproval made the two of them break apart and Alicia flushed furiously. She suddenly remembered just to whom she had surrendered her heart to, "I…Um… That was…"

"That wasn't part of our agreement!"

"Oh yeah? Well, now that I'm back, I'm willing to fight for her, because that's what she's worth – are you?"

* * *

**A/N:** Yes. I'm obviously not into sad stories. I hate sad endings, I'm sorry. I'll leave what happens next to your imagination, unless I actually receive reviews to write a sequel, in which I'd have to find time to do so XD


End file.
